Her breath caught a little. “Juan Ortiz, age six. You’ll recall he was treated in the E.R. Temp 103, upset stomach, dehydrated. I was about to bring him to the E.R. when Mr. Jordan intervened.”
He knew enough about Terry to know she couldn’t turn away from a sick child. His gaze sliced to Jordan. “Why were you trying to keep them from taking the child to the hospital?”
Jordan’s face twisted into a conciliatory smile. “Look, it was just a misunderstanding. I’d never do a thing like that.”
He felt Terry’s rejection of the words as if they were touching. Well, they’d deal with Jordan later. The important thing now was the child.
“Let’s go inside and examine Juan. Then we can see what else is necessary.”
The girl, Manuela, explained to her mother in a flood of Spanish, and they all trooped into the cement block building that appeared to be home.
A few minutes later he tousled Juan’s hair. “You’re going to be fine, young man.” He glanced at Terry, naming the medications he wanted. “You have all that at the clinic?”
She nodded. “I’ll run over and get them.”
“Wait. I’ll drive you.” And we’ll talk. He turned back to Manuela. “I’m writing down all the instructions for you. It’s very important to give him liquids, but just a little at a time. A couple of sips every ten or fifteen minutes. You’ll make sure your mother understands?”
“Yes, doctor.” She straightened, as if with pride. “I will take care of Juan myself. Everything will be done exactly as you say.”
“Good girl. You sound as if you’d make a good doctor or nurse one day.”
He saw something in her face then—an instant of longing, dashed quickly by hopelessness. He’d seen that look before. It shouldn’t be found on children’s faces.
“I would like, yes. But it’s not possible. This is my life.” Her gesture seemed to take in the fields, the building, the people.
“But, Manuela—” Terry began.
He shook his head at her and she fell silent. Now was not the time. But her expression made him fear Terry was taking off on another crusade.
“Well, you can practice your skills with your little brother.” He handed her the instructions. “Do you understand all that?”
She read through it quickly and nodded.
“Good girl. He’ll be a lot more comfortable once we get his fever down. We’ll be back in a few minutes with the medication, okay?”
“Okay.” Her smile blossomed, seeming to light the drab room.
He glanced at Terry. “Shall we go?”
She picked up her kit. “I’m ready.”
They walked to the car in silence. He’d intended to read the riot act to Terry once they were alone, but by the time they were bouncing down the lane, his anger had dissipated.
She was the one to break the silence. “Why did you come?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to check on how the first day went. Instead I found your car there, you gone. This seemed the likely place.”
“You mean you expected me to break the rules.” She sounded ready for battle.
“Let’s say I wasn’t entirely surprised.”
“The child was sick. What did you expect me to do?”
“You should have called me. Look, Terry, I understand why you went, but that’s not acceptable. If it happens again, I’ll pull the plug on the clinic.”
Her hands clenched into fists on her knees. “You’re pretty good at that, aren’t you? Cutting your losses.”
The jab went right under his defenses, leaving him breathless for an instant. He yanked the wheel, pulling to a stop in front of the clinic. Before she could get out, he grabbed the door handle, preventing her from moving. They were very close in the dark confines of the car.
“I thought we were going to leave the past behind.” He grated the words through the pain.
“I’m sorry.” It was a bare whisper, and the grief arced between them. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No. You shouldn’t have.”
This was no good. They were both trapped by what had happened, and he didn’t see that ever changing.
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